


Delightful

by CinnamonLily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Autism Spectrum, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stella Stilinski - Freeform, Stiles Stilinski Has a Sister, Teacher Derek Hale, Teacher Peter Hale, Tourette's Syndrome, check notes for extra warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27977355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonLily/pseuds/CinnamonLily
Summary: The last students had been collected an hour ago. Those who stayed at the homelike dormitory on the other side of the property had gone home too. That’s why Peter was surprised when he heard an extremely British accent yell “All teachers are wankers!” somewhere in the hallways.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 383
Collections: The Steter Network





	Delightful

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: I've taken some liberties with Stiles's Tourette's. Not much, but you'll see. There's also a mention of a traumatic brain injury and how he got it that includes death (his parents are live in this though.) If anyone wants me to tag something else, let me know.
> 
> I also don't meant to laugh at the expense of people with Tourette's. I've done extensive research on the subject and follow quite a few people whose Tourette Syndrome differs from one another wildly. This is just how I chose to write Stiles's. 
> 
> In general, this is just a fluffy story of finding your soulmate when you least expect it (and maybe had kind of lost hope because the sentence they're supposed to say when you first meet that's written on your arm is a bit... different.)

* * *

Peter grunted with annoyance and rubbed his fingers across where his soul mark, a handful of words, were on his forearm. It was a comfort thing, touching the words when he felt agitated or sad or… well, any strong not completely positive feeling.

Today, his feelings were purely fucking negative. How his predecessor, Harris, had managed to almost ruin a generations old school was incomprehensible. Hale Academy for Gifted Children had been revered in most of the eastern United States for decades until Adrian Harris got a job as the headmaster two years ago.

Now that Talia had finally realized how badly she’d fucked up with the guy, she’d called in a Big Favor. Peter had packed up his life in New York and flown back home to figure out if their family’s work had been destroyed by one imbecile who didn’t have an ounce of respect to anyone but himself.

Harris was… going to be dealt with. Peter had connections. He wasn’t just a pretty face with fifteen years of special education experience under his belt. The fact that Harris had all but shattered the self esteem of several vulnerable students just because his pride hadn’t allowed him to admit he was wrong—the pencil in Peter’s hand snapped in two and he grunted again.

The school had always specialized in making sure all their kids had the optimal environment for learning, no matter what their gifts or challenges might’ve been. They took in children who had trouble in regular school setting and made them flourish or at least feel happy and content to a point where they could get an education.

Peter had been home two weeks and he was already feeling more settled than he had ever felt in New York. He'd loved the city, but he was getting older and maybe the relative peace and quiet wouldn't be so bad? He worked too much if he was left on his own devices, and Peter's nieces and nephew had already started to make sure he wasn't just working all the time. Apparently he needed to have some fun occasionally, too, whatever that even was....

It was after school hours, so the door to his office was open. The last students had been collected half an hour ago. Those who stayed at the homelike dormitory on the other side of the property had gone home too. That’s why Peter was surprised when he heard an extremely British accent yell “All teachers are wankers!” somewhere in the hallways.

It was so surprising, Peter sat at his desk with his mouth wide open. Because there weren’t many things that managed to surprise him, Peter thought this might warrant a closer look.

He got up, glanced down at his rolled-up sleeves and the fact that he’d lost his tie as soon as the kids left and shrugged. He still had his charcoal slacks on, and his shirt was still crisp and white, so he looked reasonably well put together.

“Wanker, I say!”

Peter walked out just to see his nephew, Derek, standing a few doors down, his head tilted back in laughter as an equally tall young man berated him in that delightful accent.

The door to Derek’s classroom was open next to them.

Peter approached curiously.

“Yeah, so then I _banged his mom_ went to the grocery store and of course by the time I got back, I’d missed the _fookin public transport shite_ bus and—”

“Language,” Peter said automatically, without meaning to, his brain whirring as he took in the twitching body that spouted perfect American English in between outbursts in a British accent.

Derek grinned at him, and the young man in front of him whirled around. “A ray of fookin sunshine, ain’t ya?” he blurted out, and then facepalmed.

“And you’re delightful,” Peter replied. Then they both realized what the other had just said.

“No fucking way,” Derek’s friend said, this time in an American accent.

“Well this is certainly unexpected,” Peter admitted.

A girl appeared in the open doorway, a penguin shaped chew necklace in her mouth. She had the same exact color eyes with Derek’s friend—Peter’s soulmate—and she peered at the adults curiously.

Peter leaned down. “You’re Stella, right?” he asked gently, smiling at her a little. He stayed back enough to give her space and didn’t stare her down like so many adults might’ve done.

“Uh-huh.” She pulled the penguin out of her mouth. “He didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, I know. It’s okay. He’s like Macy, right?” Peter asked her, and she nodded.

“Tourette’s. His just sound different.” Stella beamed at the young man. “He’s the bestest big brother.”

“Aww, thank you, munchkin.” Stella’s brother turned to look at Peter and held out a long-fingered hand that had scars here and there. “I’m Stiles _and I want to climb you like a tree_ for fuck’s sake.”

Derek cackled behind them. “How about I call Claudia to come get Stella and you two can do your thing?”

Peter grinned, taking Stiles’s hand. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“I didn’t think anyone would ever actually think I was, you know, delightful.” Stiles confessed a few hours later as they were sprawled on Peter’s couch at his house that was incidentally only a mile from where the Stilinskis lived.

“And I never thought I was a ray of fucking sunshine either, so….” Peter chuckled, making Stiles snort.

They’d gotten takeout and eaten at Peter’s, letting the soulmate bond pull them closer to each other until they were making out on the couch. It seemed like neither of them wanted to take it further like then.

“Harris was a _major fooking twat_ —” Stiles interrupted himself by snapping his mouth shut which in turn made his whole body jerk on top of Peter’s.

“He really, really was. I’m sorry anyone at the school had to deal with him.” He sighed. “And please don’t censor or suppress yourself on my account, sweetheart.”

“Not all of my tics are in the accent,” Stiles said after a while of contemplation. “I guess growing up with parents who adored British TV glitched something in my brain. Well, something more.”

Peter ran his fingers through Stiles’s hair. “What happened?”

“I was a pretty regular kid with ADHD until I was fourteen. That’s… almost eight years ago now. One day my best friend Scott’s dad came to pick us up from school. We didn’t know he was high as a kite.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles when he could feel the pain lancing through the fledgling connection between them. Stiles was vibrant and larger than life, and so fucking sensitive that their bond felt what Peter thought it should’ve after months, based on his research.

“I don’t know what happened. He just swerved off the road and into a ravine. He lived for a few weeks on life support. Scotty… he died at the scene. I got a traumatic brain injury that’s still fucked up every now and then, and then the little British friend appeared gradually and….” Stiles shrugged.

“I’m so sorry you had to live through all that, sweetheart.” Then, because it needed to be said, he added, “To be clear, I don’t mean it like there’s anything wrong with you now, because there isn’t. You’re perfect just as you are.”

Stiles lifted his head to look at him. Then he smiled, happiness pinging through the bond. “Well you dropped your whole life in New York and _why aren’t you balls deep in me yet_ and for fuck’s sake I’m trying to be sincere here _oh what a mighty thick neck you have grandma_ please kill me now.” He slumped back down and tried to hide himself in the non-existent gap between Peter and the couch cushions.

Peter snorted. Then he started to laugh harder and harder until tears were streaming down his cheeks. He had a feeling life with Stiles would be anything but boring, and maybe, after the way he’d dedicated his life to his job, fate had known exactly what it was doing when it had written those few words on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written in December, after doing NaNo for original fiction and then promptly getting a positive Covid test on the 30th. I'm getting better now, but it was rough for a moment there. I'm posting this on day 13 of symptoms and like I said, I'm getting better slowly but hopefully surely. Lots of finger crossing going on here....


End file.
